


The Luxury of Villainy

by PudgeParfait



Category: Enclave (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Belly Rubs, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Smut, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian Characters, Magic, Multi, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Dark Campaign, Spoilers, Starts normal and gets weird later, Weight Gain, slightly canon compliant, villains doing villainous things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-19 19:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18976969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PudgeParfait/pseuds/PudgeParfait
Summary: The Enclave has fallen. Now granted powers beyond their wildest dreams, Neselis and her band of villainous fiends wonder what could be done.





	1. The Death of Celenheim

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike my other fic, this one features shorter, more rapid-fire scenes as opposed to one long, drawn out scene. Writing isn't my strong suit and as such I struggle with longer scenes, so I'm giving this a go to see how it feels.
> 
> Other noteworthy points:
> 
> -It's slightly canon compliant in that the fic tries to remain as in-universe as possible. Names of places, characters, and events are used, though there's definitely bound to be inconsistencies. Since Enclave is an older game with a small fanbase, sources for lore are rather scattered or difficult to find.
> 
> -None of the playable characters in Enclave have specific names - only class names. I've given them names to supplement.
> 
> This is going to be a kink fic - I'm a fan of fics with buildup to the kinky stuff, rather than simply getting kinky from the get-go (not that that's bad, it's just not my cup of tea!). It's going to get weird. Sorry to those looking for an actual unironic non-sexual fanfic for Enclave. If you're looking for that kind of deal, you'll find one eventually. I believe in you.

With the dagger plunged into her throat once more, the Queen’s bleeding body descends to the floor, choking to death on her final breath.

Neselis pulls the blade out from the Queen’s throat, blood gushing in its wake. A shiver runs down her spine. It was the unfathomable - she had successfully infiltrated Castle Celenheim and assassinated the Queen. The assassin sheathes her blade, then climbs up from the cellar underneath the throne, towards the morning view out the front door. As she takes a deep breath, she finds two figures standing in a nearby tower - a fit, lithe orc and a voluptuous sorceress.

“Oh! An assassin!” the orc waves energetically. “Hey! Assassin! We just took care of the guards in the eastern tower, that lich and her goblin friend should be just about done with the western tower. How’s that fight with the Queen?”

Neselis wipes the dust off of her garbs. “Queen Atlindel has perished by my blade.”

“So she has?” The sorceress raises her brow. “How could you be so sure? Atlindel is a sly woman - Mordessa’s past attempts of usurping the throne were thwarted by her cunning alone.”

The late Mordessa’s elites were not ones to believe word and word alone. Neselis ponders for a moment silently before raising her hand. “Wait here,” she tells the two before scurrying back into to the throne room. 

Now, Neselis has a problem: how was she to prove the Queen’s death? Should she be truly as powerful as they imply, the Queen would likely have an escape plan - she, like many of her Elven kind, was imbued with magical strength. Neselis paces around the room, looking for anything unusual that the Queen could take to her advantage. Her first instinct was the throne itself, which kept the hidden cellar underneath its trap door. The throne gave view to the Queen’s remains, bloodied and defeated… yet still grasping  upon a small glimmer of light. 

Queen Atlindel still lives.

Neselis studies the throne, though nothing seems to look out of the ordinary. It was as she had feared: the mechanism was magically charged, not mechanically charged. The assassin gulps, continuing in her quest to turn things to her favor. Perhaps the filigree walls may provide some solace? Running her hand across the wall gave no luck. She sighs, and suddenly she can’t breathe back in. Blue light shimmers around her. 

It was her doing. 

Careful breaths won’t work this time, Neselis thinks to herself. In a jerk reaction, she grabs for the nearby candelabrum and attempts to yank it out… only to be met with a morbid, meaty crunch from below, followed by a weak squeal that echoes through the throne room. 

Neselis breathes in once more. It’s over.

A slow clap comes from the door. “Well done,” a sensual voice hums. “You’ve outmatched the Queen of Celenheim herself. Vatar will certainly be pleased for your valiant efforts, dear assassin.”

Neselis glances to the side. “Er, well… if it weren’t for you and Gro-daar distracting the guards, I wouldn’t have made it in alive.”

The sorceress chuckles. “Oh, dear assassin, you need not be so humble. You fought no mere mortal man - you have defeated Queen Atlindel of Celenheim, leader of the Enclave. Don’t you suppose a little celebration is to be had?”

Before Neselis could reply, the ground shakes violently. To the north, a large black obelisk emerges from the ground. “It appears Vatar has heard her death knell,” the sorceress looks towards the obelisk. “Come, bask in your well-deserved victory.”


	2. A Meeting with Vatar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the death of Celenheim's queen rings throughout the land, Neselis and the others return to Vatar. His eminence has a few choice words on the matter.

Walls of flesh and bone, to the common man, could make one’s stomach churn. But to the loyal Dreg’Atar outlanders, the sinuous realm was a warm welcome home from their arduous adventure. They stand before Vatar, whose beastly presence instills fear in even they themselves. A crowd of hellish creatures pour around them, excited from their success.

The sorceress comes forward. "Lord Vatar. Or should I say… King Vatar? Emperor Vatar? Vatar, Dark God?"

"Monikers are for meaningless men whose power is granted by birthright," Vatar growls. "But you three… your power is granted by strength. The Queen of Celenheim has been slain?"

The sorceress nods. "Indeed. The Queen Atlindel's soul is yours to meddle."

"Most impressive," Vatar purrs. "Most impressive… the assassin was the one to mangle her precious little corpse, was she not?"

Neselis nods meekly. "Yes, it was," she admitted. "But the others were immense help, too."

Vatar moves closer to the group, slowly eyeing the assassin. He bursts into a low, menacing laughter. "Are you a Dreg'Atar? Or are you merely an Enclave stowaway?" his tone turns dark. "Such humility…"

He turns to his side, to his audience of lessers. "The lot of you, the world is now your grotesque, vile oyster," Vatar beckons, summoning a portal before them. "Go, and witness the bounties Celenheim has to offer you. When you've gathered your strength once more… return to me, and we shall continue our conquest to other lands!"

The seething mass of orcs and ogres alike scream and holler, rallying fiercely to their newfound leaders. Pouring into the portals like liquid, they dissipate as fast as they rallied. The orc who accompanied the sorceress joins them in their malevolent merriment. Neselis, who found discomfort in attempting to bargain with the beastly Vatar himself, slips herself into the crowds, following them into Celenheim. In mere moments, the crowds were gone - all that remains is the sinuous beast himself, dwarfing the sorceress that had stayed.

“Do you not wish to join them?” Vatar questions. “Your kind is celebrating. Join them in their relishment.”

“My work is not yet done. I have something to ask. A proposition, if you will.”

The beast comes forward. His breaths click in a bony chatter. "Speak."

"Our dear assassin needs time to grow into her role. The poor woman's spent her entire life in the embrace of shadows. Grant her your limitless power, and she will truly become the chosen you desire," she offers. "It is then, when she is given a mere taste of the grandeur your power provides, perhaps she may break the boundaries she’s been imprisoned within for so long."

Vatar pauses. "Very well. To the assassin, I grant my powers and my blessings. If she becomes as you say she will, I will extend my powers to you as well. Should you fail… the Dreg'Atar will have no use for your corpse."

"Consider it done," the sorceress smirks. With a wave of her hand, she disappears in a smoky haze.


	3. Malevolent Merriment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The village of Celadia was filled with commotion, for all the wrong reasons.

The village of Celadia was filled with commotion, for all the wrong reasons. Outlanders raid the shops for valuables, setting homes alight and wrecking havoc about. Amidst the chaos, one building remained untouched - a tavern.

Neselis sneaks through the shadows when she hears a familiar voice. “Another round of drinks!”

Was it the orc that accompanied the sorceress? He did have a rather distinct voice, Neselis could recall. Waiting for the coast to clear, she walked through the door.

The assassin was met with an overcrowded bar, filled with orcs, ogres, and goblins alike drinking and celebrating. 

“Oh! The hero of the night!” the orc exclaims. He swats a nearby goblin away from his chair. “C’mere, we got a seat just for you!”

Neselis sits herself next to the orc. “I must ask… why haven’t you attacked her yet?” Neselis asks nervously. “For all the havoc everyone’s wrecking, this place appears awfully tranquil.”

“Her? She’s a nice lady’s all,” he smiles. “We were gonna destroy this place, but she sat us down and let us try the finest brew she’s got, never breakin’ a sweat. More than enough’a reason to keep her alive.”

The barkeep approaches the table - an elderly woman with surprising strength, as shown from the sheer amount of tankards she holds in her arms. “Ah, this is the little hero you were talking about?” she says, serving a round of drinks to everyone. A heaping tankard is placed in front of Neselis. “Well, it’s an honor serving you, dear.”

“I’m… not much of a drinker, personally,” Neselis tells the barkeep. “Can I get some water?”

The barkeep chuckles. “Sure, Miss Hero,” she tells the assassin, turning to the next group to be served. 

“Hm, well. If you ain’t that much into drinking, how ‘bout we get you a room and a nice wench to keep you company?” the orc offers. “You are the type for ladies, ain’t’cha? Or are you more a man’s woman?”

“I prefer women, though I’d rather prefer to wait for that kind of thing. Sorry,” she apologizes meekly.

The orc chugs the last of his beer before slamming his tankard - and his fists - on the table. “Damn, you really are hard to please! Well, what’s been ticklin’ your fancy? Say the word, and it’s yours, friend.”

The assassin ponders. What did she want? “A new bow would be nice,” Neselis blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “During the raid on Castle Celenheim, the string on my old one split into two. I haven’t been able to fix it since.”

The orc raises himself from the table. “One bow comin’ right up. C’mon, boys!” he motions his arm to the door. The others follow him out with a menacing glee. 

Neselis remains at the table, with the barkeep bringing the tankard of water over. “Thank you,” she tells her.

The barkeep shakes her head. “Such a loud bunch… but they pay their dues, I’ll give them that.”

“I’m surprised how well they behave,” Neselis notes, drinking from her tankard. “Usually they’re ones to make quite the ruckus.”

“Well, I told them if they behave and pay for their drinks, they could have as much as they’d like,” the barkeep explains. “I don’t mind where it comes from. As long as I’m paid, I’m happy.”

“That’s one way to look at it. But what happens when you run out of drinks?”

“Easy. My wife’s got herself a chain of breweries towards the east of Celadia. Told those boys to leave her be, and my, they were about ready to sing,” she laughs. “They seem to love the prospect of endless beer and mead.”

“They certainly do,” Neselis turns her head to hide a smile.

“Now then, I don’t suppose you’d like a room, would you?” the barkeep offers. “From how it sounds out there, it sounds like the Outlanders are heading out west. Room’s free for you, Miss Hero.” 

A night’s rest could do her some good, she thought to herself. She’s been awake for more than a day, after all - not an uncommon feat from an assassin such as herself, but what with the events of today, sleep was a welcome thought. Neselis nods. “Sure.”

The barkeep gestures her hand towards her left - a cellar door. “I suppose you’d prefer to rest without the noise of two burly orc men on top of one another. Unless you do. If you listen carefully enough, you might hear them from down there,” she jests. 

Neselis giggles. “No, the silence is perfect for me. Take me to the rooms, please.”

“Right this way,” the barkeep says with a smile.

From the cellar, Neselis is lead to a rather well-kept hallway - presumably the barkeep’s living quarters. She is taken to an unassuming room, complete with fresh linens and puffed pillows. “Enjoy your stay,” the barkeep tells Neselis. “And goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the assassin tells the barkeep, sitting herself down on the bed. It’s surprisingly soft to the touch, like nothing she’s ever sat upon before. No noble furniture could even rival such a piece. Neselis strips herself down to the essentials, slipping into bed. With one blow upon the candle on her nightstand, she closes her eyes, awaiting the new day...


End file.
